


OSaBC Tales - Brasil Eterno

by SLotH4



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-05-15 09:15:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19292743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLotH4/pseuds/SLotH4
Summary: In the year 2061, the land of Brazil was laid waste and its people put to the sword. Those who survived live on in destitution and squalor. But some still cling to the memory of their homeland even as they endure the barbs of those who cast them down. An impossible dream, against an inescapable reality. Set in LogicalPremise's "Premisverse."





	1. Parte Um

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve had this idea on the back-burner for a while. This may be the last PV short story I write, and it’s been a hell of a ride. (NOTE: This was the fifth PV story I wrote and published on LP’s forum. The other stories will be published here in the future.) I wouldn’t be anywhere near where I am as a writer if it weren’t for LogicalPremise’s little Discord channel of chaos and insanity. Working with him and the others has expanded my view of the world at-large and the world of writing. But most of all, it was Jacob who helped me grow into something better. He helped with my first short story, the introduction piece to Estêvão Volinski, and he helped me expand and refine what you’re about to read. He’s been a good friend and partner.
> 
> Special thanks to Sikor_Seraph and Sevoris for helping with the drone conversation in the beginning, and Nogui for helping with some of the Portuguese.
> 
> Without further ado, part one of “Brasil Eterno.”

Data streams filled the haptic display screen. Bits of information bereft of order and context. Each scrolling by as softly glowing eyes took them in with ravenous glee. Nirin’Ptrun’s smile grew wistful as her thoughts wandered to her… mate? Bahnt? Captain? That one was probably the most accurate. He’d questioned her needs in the past, this overwhelming compulsion to snoop and sneak.

He called her an ‘e-klepto.’

She called him a ‘man with shitty computer passwords.’

With wandering hands that reached out to steal whatever bit of information she could find, no matter how mundane or vitally important, it was all the same. Something to seize. Something that wasn’t meant for her luminous eyes.

Nirin glanced over at her bahnt as he fiddled with his mechanical prosthetics at the omni-bench. The left forearm compartment was fully opened as he tightened screws and reloaded the disposable ‘party favors’ – flares, drones, grenades, etc.

She grinned as she remembered the feel of his strong metal hands last night, and the teasing electricity they could expel on command. She’d have to have him reenact his performance once he was done with his calibrations.

“How’d that drone swarm work out for you, Estê-kun?” she asked, breaking the silence of their bedroom.

“Not bad. The targeting algorithms are good, but the coordination between them is iffy,” Estêvão Volinski answered with a frown, “Something’s preventing the VIs from communicating properly.”

“Could be clock drift between platforms.”

“Sounds likely, though I can’t see a cause. Firmware is consistent across the swarm and the VIs’ logic engines know to watch for time inconsistency and self-correct.”

“Put them in debug mode and set them to ‘bake-out’ in the cargo hold with a repeating flying routine.”

“The brute force method?” Volinski asked with a cocked eyebrow, then he shrugged, “I’ll give it a shot.”

“Mm,” Nirin hummed as she turned back to her console and cracked her knuckles, wiggling her fingers to get the blood flowing as she prepared her digital thralls for the coming battle.

She’d taken a series of custom-built VIs and placed them into a processing stack with FTL circuits before uploading a simulated neural pattern – modelled off the kirik beetles of Ekram. This turned her VI stacks into what was known as an ‘augmented-neural interface’ system.

Volinski had called it an AI, which Nirin vehemently denied in the strongest possible language. She compared the ANI to a vorcha –  _technically_  sapient, but only  _technically_. And much like a vorcha,  _completely_  harmless – yes, the room is on fire, but it’s  _friendly_  fire, everything’s fine, stop worrying so much. She continued to downplay any potential risk as she set about creating six more ANIs – which she named after the murder victims in an archaic horror movie they’d watched.

The HelNet was an interesting database, its architecture as unique as the mind of its creator. It was a challenge in the beginning, especially with EVA patrolling the servers, but once there was a crack in the firewall, the whole system opened up to her. She always covered her tracks after a long day of dredging the servers with her polymorphic ANI cluster swarms, and she’d never been reprimanded for snooping. She felt safe and carefree, even as she bypassed the security of the Illusive Man’s inner sanctum.

* * *

Volinski felt a tingle on the back of his neck and glanced over to his quarian. Her silvery eyes staring at the screen, unblinking. Her tongue licking her lips as they rubbed together, one of her many tics when she was ‘in the zone.’

He smiled at that as he finished calibrating the drone software. That look, hunched over a computer screen with her body tense and coiled. It was ‘Niri at her Niri-est.’ The one time she was truly in her element. Killing batarians? Fucking her man? Nothing could compare to this moment, when the digital world was laid bare before her.

* * *

The network’s custom-built firewall – the HelNet’s greatest non-sapient defense and Mr. Harper’s crowning achievement – coalesced into an enormous lava golem, towering dozens of meters above. At its sagging, stump-like feet – clad in glowing cobalt armor – stood defiantly a lithe quarian with a strange golden-glowing sword in her hands.

The Heroic Spirit drew a deep breath and lifted the blade above her head and screamed with all her might, “EXCALIBUUUUUUUUUR!”

As she drew down the blade, a violent wave of blinding gold light rushed away and consumed the golem in purifying radiance, leaving not a trace of the monster behind. As the glare dissipated, the lone knight sheathed her holy blade and trudged past the guardian’s redoubt and into the HelNet’s deepest, darkest servers to plunder their secrets and treasures.

* * *

Volinski was tweaking the flight VI for his HUSSAR rig when he heard a giggle coming from the nearby computer desk. Glancing up, he saw a giddy smirk on Nirin’s face as she tapped a haptic button once or twice – looking every bit the stereotypical slacker hacker wearing one of his oversized t-shirts. Then she revealed a predatory grin of sharp teeth and dramatically mumbled the word ‘Excalibur’ while slamming her tri-fingered hand down on that same haptic button.

The Brazilian gave a grunt and returned to his work, disinclined as he was to delve too deeply into her fantasies. As long as the room wasn’t on fire, there was no reason to get involved.

* * *

Basking in her victory against insurmountable odds, Nirin slouched in her chair with an aura of absolute contentment as her primary ANI cluster set about decrypting the data she’d just purloined from the HelNet. How she wished it could be more than idle fancy to fight the daemons in the digital world with her bare, virtual-reality hands, but the technology just didn’t exist yet. She wasn’t even sure she would use it. If someone hacked it, did they hack into your very mind?

On the nearby vidscreen there was a regal man giving an interview to the ‘angry news lady.’ Nirin wasn’t paying attention, and her bahnt seemed too busy to care what was said, that is, until the Japanese Emperor addressed the Fall of Ilium.

 _“The humans on Ilium were not Alliance citizens – every one of them renounced such to go to Ilium, and some of those were criminals or worse. Ilium hosted, for reasons we cannot fathom, the single largest concentration of humans with Brazilian ancestry in the galaxy after Oro, and their loss is not exactly_ tragic _.”_

“Neither was Nagasaki, you slant-eyed nip,” Volinski grumbled under his breath.

Nirin tittered at his venomous, redundant words. “Estê-kun, he can’t hear you.”

“Neither can your anime characters,” he snapped, “but that doesn’t stop you from yelling at them.”

“My waifu was being stupid! I  _had_  to yell at her.”

“Pfft, anime was a mistake, through and through. I’ll never forgive Pam for sharing that shit with you.”

“Estê-kun, don’t be such a bully.” Sliding a claw through her silvery quills and tousling the bound bundles – Brooks had called them ‘pigtails’ – she turned back to the computer screen as it gave soft ‘ding.’

The decryption came to an end and she saw something very interesting on the screen. It was a familiar room that she’d never once visited in-person – and likely never would. The Illusive Man’s inner sanctum, an atrium overlooking the churning hellscape of a star with a single chair to take in the spectacle. And sitting in that chair was the man himself, Jack Harper, her… Admiral. And floating nearby in the QEC projector was the bane of any quarian’s existence, an unshackled AI of incomprehensible power.

She beckoned her man with a claw. “Come here, Estê-kun, I found something in the network.”

“Niri, we’ve been over this,” he said with a weary sigh as he reengaged the magnetic locks on his forearm compartment, “You can’t keep hacking the network whenever you feel like it. I can’t protect you if things go sideways.”

“Since when do I need protection?” Nirin huffed in indignation, “Besides, they need my help against the Shadow Broker. You worry too much.”

“You’re working on a deficit of good will to begin with, Niri. You’ve been given a lot of leeway for an alien… that won’t last forever. Especially if you keep fucking off in patrão’s systems.”

Nirin narrowed her glowing eyes as she prepared her rebuttal, which took the form of a blown raspberry.

“Cristo, you’re like a child sometimes,” he said as he slowly shook his head and clucked his tongue, “Fine. What have you found?”

“I haven’t watched it yet, but it looks like Vigil-bō having a conversation with Mr. Illusive-dono.”

Volinski’s attention was arrested momentarily as his brain stumbled over that last piece. A  _private_  conversation between the Illusive Man and the AI known as ‘Vigil.’

“Are you fucking insane?!” he demanded, whipping his head around like he was possessed, “Patrão would kill us both if he knew you were spying on him!”

“I’m not spying on him,” Nirin huffed, “I just  _happened_  upon it.”

“That’s not a valid excuse!” Volinski admonished, “Nirin’Ptrun, I swear to God, you will be the fucking  _death_  of me!”

Nirin responded with a face that radiated smugness so dense it could bend light.

Volinski narrowed his eyes. “You’d actually be proud of yourself for that, wouldn’t you?”

Inexplicably, her expression became even more smug – it proved too strong for her bahnt to withstand.

Relenting with a heavy sigh, Volinski sauntered over to the computer. “Fuck it… What’d you find?”

Nirin pressed the haptic button and the pair watched as the Illusive Man spoke to the Inusannon AI while it was still ‘trapped’ on the Citadel. They could even see Operatives Brooks and Heldra standing near the silver orb as it went about denigrating anything and everything of this time period.

* * *

Volinski rewatched the recording for the third time and was left with the same unanswered question. “ ‘I need to be placed in proximity to a race unlikely to be harvested.’ …Why the fuck would Vigil need patrão’s help with that? He can travel anywhere with a wireless connection, no? Steal a ship, or even build his own?”

“I dunno. Maybe it’s testing Mr. Illusive-dono? Seeing what it can get out of him?”

“Hmm… maybe,” Volinski conceded as he narrowed his eyes, “He’s already preparing for the next Cycle. Hmm. Can you… reach out to him?”

“This thing is the single most sophisticated piece of  _anything_  in Citadel Space. Chances are it’s listening to us right now,” she replied with a nervous grimace.

 _Really?_  Volinski cocked an eyebrow and turned to the computer screen. “Vigil, could I have a  _moment_  of your time, please?”

There was a flash of white light as the picotech AI construct popped into existence, floating above the terminal for a moment before addressing them, “You play a curious game, meatbag. I’ve been aware of your data-tap since I infiltrated the network. Strange that your employer tolerates it.”

“Niri’s good at covering her tracks.”

“Mm… is that what you think? Well, I won’t be the one spoil your fantasies, but I will say that if that’s truly the case, then your standards are woefully inadequate. I’m sure the other construct finds your bumbling amusing, I know I do,” Vigil said as its form smugly pulsed, “Fumbling around in your little sandbox like—”

Vigil broke off as it took note of a foreign object being thrust into its backside. From behind, stood a quarian in an oversized t-shirt, poking the AI with a long, floppy rod of rubber with rounded ends, as if she were gingerly assessing a corpse in the bushes.

“Stop that, you savage!” Vigil hissed, zapping the quarian with a jolt of electricity and forcing her into retreat with a yelp – dropping the sex toy in her haste. The AI turned its attention back to Volinski. “Few beyond Shepard and the Illusive Man seek to treat with me directly, yet you jumped at the chance to speak. So speak, meatbag.”

Volinski straightened his back and took a deep breath. “You’re preparing to fight the Reapers beyond this Cycle. I want to join that effort.”

“You? What could one broken primate do for me?” the AI sneered, “I have enough on my plate keeping Shepard from falling apart into uselessness. Moreover, how are you even privy to that information? There’s no way Mr. Harper would trust a cannon monkey like you with something like that.”

“The fuck is a ‘cannon monkey’?”

“Don’t hurt your brain with that one. Now answer my question.”

“Well, I… hear things, I guess? Anyway, back to the issue at hand… my people are near extinction. I wish to establish a colony in uncharted space. Far from the relay network. It would benefit your cause to take a people with no history and mold them into a weapon,” Volinski insisted, offering a knowing smile as he continued, his social augmentations helping to coach his features, “I imagine it would be easier to do that with a blank slate species than trying to mold one that’s already established, like the yahg or the kintul.”

“Are your people any better?” Vigil asked as it scrutinized him for a moment before bobbing slightly in the air, “Humans are fickle, and these Brazilians I assume you’re referring to are nothing but barbarous trash. They’re unruly criminals.”

“I know… that’s why I want to start over. I found…” Volinski trailed off, his eyes narrowing as his quarian stalked up behind the AI, marital aid once more in hand, “Niri,  _don’t_.”

The quarian ignored him and poked the AI again, her glowing eyes widening as the obscene paraphernalia turned to dust from one tip to the other – dropping it before it reached her fingers. The girl jumped back, landing like reared cat on the nearby desk chair – spinning on the swivel as she glared at the glowing orb and hissed in indignation, “Bosh’tet! You killed ‘Único Amigo’!”

Vigil’s sphere contracted in indignation. “That Mr. Harper would tolerate something like  _that_ , makes me question his sanity. Your pet is a loon.”

“I prefer to call her ‘eccentric,’ Volinski offered, downplaying the girl’s flimsy hold on reality.

“ _I_  am eccentric, she’s howling at the moon.”

“Oh come on,” Volinski tried before mumbling, “she hasn’t done that in weeks.”

Vigil became very quiet. “You have an indeterminate amount of time to explain yourself before I atomize the both of you.”

“I found a garden world! Fuck!” Volinski all but screamed, throwing both hands in the air like her was under arrest, “It’s suitable for human habitation and I want to populate it with Brazilians!”

Vigil did not react beyond floating in place. Volinski took it as a good sign that he and his quarian were still alive, though that was hardly the benchmark he wanted to use.

Taking a nervous gulp of air, he continued, “Specifically, children conceived from those of Brazilian descent. That is my request, a refuge for my people – a tabula rasa from our sins. Raise them as you see fit. I only ask that they know their culture and history from before the Imperador ruined us.”

Vigil continued to… stare? It wasn’t clear. But after a moment, the AI broke its silence, “Why do you place such arbitrary restrictions upon your request, meatbag? Isn’t it enough to have a colony of humans safely tucked away from the Reapers? Is a pack of barely sentient rapists, murderers, and war criminals worth such effort? Most would argue in favor of their extermination. When the Reapers do come, assuming this fool plan of yours works, you will have chosen to save the deformed remains of humanity’s worst at the expense of billions of those who weren’t tainted.”

_Seriously? Even an AI talks shit on my people? We’re not fucking vorcha!_

Volinski couldn’t hide the flash of pain on his face, nor the bitterness in his voice, “I didn’t realize a few caveats made it such a daunting prospect. And here I thought you more than a floating lightbulb.”

“Insults? Trying to attack my pride?” Vigil asked, his form pulsing.

It was right about then that Volinski felt his bowels turn to jelly with unease. Lashing out at a literal killing machine was… unwise.

“I, uh… I’m sure I don’t kno— Oh shit!” Volinski exclaimed as his prosthetics went into revolt – legs folding into themselves as the hands moved to strangle their owner.

Nirin leapt out of the chair and was alight with the red glow of her omni-tool as she shot at the silver orb with her Arc pistol – the electroplasma discharge having no effect. She attempted an overload from her omni-tool, only for her body to seize up when the voltage ground out through her instead, rendering her unconscious.

“You two are fully aware of my capabilities and my disdain for primitive yokels such as yourselves, and yet you goad me –  _attack me_. Is it bravery or stupidity, I wonder.”

“Wh-Why… not… b-both?” Volinski forced out, unable to draw a breath as his rebellious fingers dug deeper into his throat.

Vigil was quiet for a moment, then its silvery form flashed as the ancient AI released its hold and actually chuckled at the man’s suggestion. “Indeed. You’ve entertained me, jabá, but nothing more. If I wanted to waste my time conversing with barbarous trash, I would visit Heshtok. Or  _Oro_.”

“Eu não sou lixo, seu filho da puta,” the Brazilian hissed in Portuguese between clenched teeth.

“Are you so out of touch with reality that you would deny the obvious? You’re not even relevant to the man who pays your stipend, how could you possibly be anything to me? You and your pet are nothing but extras on Mr. Harper’s set, a man far more interesting and useful to my goals, and even then, he’s barely worth my notice. His greatest desires and schemes nothing more than a footnote. So, what does that make you? This is the greatest gambit of your life, the greatest opportunity your broken people will ever have, and it is not even the tenth most consequential thing I’ve considered in the last hour.”

Volinski was still massaging his throat as he eyed the machine and rose to his feet. With his limbs once more under his control, he was barely able to maintain a calm exterior as he seethed with rage. His knuckles strained as he clenched his fists tighter and tighter all while grinding his molars into metaphorical dust.

“Do you understand your irrelevance, jabá? How could you be anything more than a tool when Mr. Harper won’t even trust you with access to the HelNet?” the AI sneered.

Volinski’s rage slowed his response, but once he processed the words it disappeared completely and left only confusion in its wake. “What do you mean?”

“You and the quarian do not have any access to the HelNet servers, whatsoever. What you use is a perfect replica of the sections you would have access to if Mr. Harper could trust your quarian to know her place.”

Volinski winced at the appraisal, his thoughts drifting back to the day he joined Cerberus outright. He’d warned the Illusive Man about Nirin’s disdain for digital barriers and secrets. At the time, the Cerberus leader waved it off without concern.

“If it’s a replica, how can I talk to people over it? How can I edit pages while others do the same?”

“Mr. Harper’s construct, EVA, created your cage and maintains all aspects of it. You use ‘HelNet lite,’ and she transfers your information to the real thing and vice versa.”

“But Niri’s always hacking—”

“Your pet is acting as an unknowing white hat hacker. The cyberdefenses of HelNet lite are identical to the real thing. When the playground’s integrity is violated, EVA patches the holes in the real network. The servers your pet plays in are honeypots for the Silver Legions, the Dark Network, and the STG – she is nothing more than an unwitting bee.”

Volinski was quiet, his guts twisting into knots as he reflected on the implications. Nirin was quarian, she lived to satisfy her Captain, to follow her Admiral, and to add value to her Fleet. In a sense, she was, but she didn’t know it. She thought her value was killing batarians and hacking enemy systems, but her true value was apparently patching the organization’s servers.

Admiral Harper didn’t trust her. Fleet Cerberus was content to use her. Captain Volinski wasn’t even worth being told about it.

First, he was outraged. He understood why they wouldn’t trust a quarian hacker with no boundaries, but him? He had no ulterior motives. He wasn’t a threat. He killed slavers and pirates and helped make space a little safer for humanity. This political maneuvering was why he’d resisted joining Cerberus for so long, content to have the shadow organization contract him and his Blood Dragons to act as proxies in the Traverse.

Some part of him, though, a part that he wasn’t sure he could ever tell Nirin about, felt relieved. How many sleepless nights had he suffered because his quarian couldn’t  _not_  hack the HelNet? And now, knowing it was all harmless, he let out a deflated half laugh. EVA tended to act prim and proper, but he suspected she would be downright giddy over the stress she had induced in not telling him about HelNet lite.

“If what you say is true, why would EVA leave a video of you and patrão talking in the fake server?”

“I neither know nor care, her reasons are her own. Though I suspect she considered the video to be of limited importance. Not unlike you.”

Volinski narrowed his eyes at the ancient machine, but refrained from lashing out. It would have been a pointless gesture, one that could quite possibly get him killed. Instead, he focused on the very real danger of Nirin learning the truth. She lived as a quarian does, finding meaning in being valuable to her Fleet, but it was all based on a lie, and if she ever found out she might try to kill herself again.

“I think I’m made my point and position quite clear. So let us end this farce of a sales pitch, shall we?”

“Wait!” Volinski cried out, reaching out with his hand, “Don’t—”

“Goodbye,” Vigil said as his soap bubble form popped out of existence, leaving not a trace.

Volinski’s hand remained outstretched for a time, before falling limply to his side as his shoulders slumped, his hopes and aspirations evaporating alongside the fickle AI. He’d gambled and lost. So hopeful to see his people restored that he went in without a plan. Jumping at the opportunity without the foggiest idea of how to convince something that reasonably viewed him as a semi-intelligent animal at best.

 _Or a Brazilian,_  whispered that sour, self-loathing voice he carried with him everywhere.

There it was, that voice that wondered if his people really had deserved what happened to them, given their crimes against humanity. The voice that secretly agreed with the Japanese Emperor’s sweetly poisoned words. The voice that whispered seeds of doubt and evil thoughts in the darkest corner of his mind.

It had been relatively quiet after Mindoir, when the death of his wife had awoken a brutal nationalism that hadn’t existed prior to that, but every year since, it had slowly recouped more of its previous strength. Now it was like tinnitus, a constant thrum on the edge of his perception.

He’d fucked up. And as that realization settled in… his blood grew hot. His fists clenched so tightly that the polymer could be heard grinding against itself. Letting out a roar of fury and rage he struck the wall. Then he struck it again… and again… and  _again_.

He kept punching, ignoring the pain emulators that screamed for him to stop. He ignored the HUD display that warned of fatigue in the titanium finger bones, even as one pinky finger stopped responding to his brain impulses. He just kept venting his frustrations as the metal paneling buckled around the fist-shaped dents.

He might have smashed his arms to pieces against the bulkhead had he not felt the ginger touch of a quarian palm on his shoulder. He leant his forehead against the wall, breathing heavily as the adrenaline played havoc with his emotions. He felt defeated, deflated. His rage was spent, and now he just wanted to curl up and cry.

“I’m sorry, Estê-kun,” came Nirin’s gentle voice, soothing as it always was when the nightmares took hold of him, “I know it meant a lot to you and I—”

“Don’t, just… don’t. He made his choice before he even spoke to us. There was never going to be any help in this. It just means nothing has changed. Operation: Foda-se Ardiente is still at square one… I doubt it’ll ever move past that point.”

Nirin watched him with a frown, before forcing a playful smile. “How about a good gumming to take your mind off things?”

He shook his head. “Tempting, but I’m not in the mood.”

Nirin’s frown returned, her bahnt had never turned her down before. Perhaps a change of scenery would suffice. “Well, why don’t we check in with Luiz-senpai and see if there aren’t a few Masters we can hunt down? That always cheers you up.”

Volinski frowned at the girl’s choice of words, but nodded his assent. He had never really gotten used to her little idiosyncrasies when it came to the batarians. If she needed to pretend a random squint was her old Master, then so be it. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter what she chose to call them… every ‘Master’ would get exactly what it deserved.

Well, all of them except her actual Master, ensconced as he was on Khar’shan. Justice was a fleeting thing in this dark galaxy.

 _Or is it?_  Volinski thought as he remembered something he’d read about a certain hanar on the Citadel. His frown gave way to a small smile. Maybe his dream of a reborn Brazil was dead, but he could still free the woman he loved from her pain. Perhaps that was enough.


	2. Parte Dois

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the time, my editors will ask questions and make broad suggestions regarding direction and tone, but very rarely, they’ll dip into coauthor territory and actually write something themselves. Jacob wrote the first couple lines of dialogue here before pulling back into ignominy where his dirty coal-covered ass belongs. It was well-received though and set the stage for the first section. In fact, the entire plot point of them being on the Citadel and meeting with Ithorex was his suggestion.
> 
> As for the lovely Nirin’Ptrun vas Cavaleiro Pálido, I based her suit off of a terrific piece of art from FonteArt, called “Quarian’s Creed.”

Estêvão Volinski glanced around at the polished causeways and bustling throngs of alien faces walking to-and-fro. Even the worst-dressed people were decked out in expensive dress-casual fineries. The Citadel – the prestigious sections at least – was a wealth of culture and status. To even visit meant you had to be someone. To actually work there meant you were someone special.

“What’s his name again?” asked Nirin’Ptrun, her arm linked with his as they walked along the Presidium.

He glanced down at the quarian before turning back to the causeway they were crossing. Nirin was wearing the same suit she always wore – or at least that’s how it appeared, she had half a dozen identical sets. The deep violet glass of her helmet girdled by an ivory hood which trailed down and merged with her shoulders and continued into a flowing coattail in the back. Dark brown leather boots and gauntlets – custom-made on Omega. A scarlet sash beneath her bosom with leather straps completed the ensemble with a bold exclamation.

All around them the capital station of the galaxy pulsed with life. The air smelt of flame-pears and cherry blossoms. Three salarian workers were busy installing some kind of moss bed for an upcoming holiday, something about Shego. Some wealthy tourists were taking pictures of themselves near the Relay Monument while the locals ignored them.

“Ithorex. The, uh,” Volinski paused as he tried to remember the hanar’s profile, “Unready. Ithorex the Unready.”

Nirin managed to snort and giggle at the same time, she bounced a bit on her feet and somehow clung to his arm even tighter. “Why do these jillies all have such goofy names? He sounds like an old mystic we have to visit before the final boss fight.”

“Niri, we need to get this right, okay? We _need_ to,” said Volinski.

“Don’t. I know that tone, Estê-kun.”

Volinski stopped walking and turned to face her, his expression saturated with annoyance. “Don’t _what_?”

“Don’t act like you’re being forced to take me here. I’m not gonna apologize for trying to lighten the mood and enjoy what was _supposed_ to be some fun R&R.”

“That’s not what I said!”

“It’s what you meant.”

“No, it’s not! It’s just that when we were talking to Vigil—”

“I’m not responsible for what Vigil-bō said, or what it did. _It_ is,” said Nirin, eyes flaring.

“You poked him with a dildo,” Volinski deadpanned with narrowed eyes, “You don’t think that affected his decision?”

“Now who’s being naïve? It made its choice _long_ before it ever spoke to either of us. I don’t care if you’re angry with it. You should be. I am too. But don’t direct it at me, Estê-kun.”

“I—” Volinski stopped and sighed, “You’re right. I know you’re right. That paneleiro was probably listening to everything we said and did for months. Years. Who the fuck knows. He knew you were in the network, he knew what we talked about and what we’ve been dreaming about. And he still chose to screw us over.”

They were both quiet for a moment, lost in their own thoughts and the splendid gardens and water parks of the Presidium. The shadow of a colossal stone krogan taking up the periphery.

“Hmm, I wonder if Gulta-sensei is still here,” Nirin wondered aloud, breaking the silence.

“Who?”

“Gulta Noor. He took me and mom in after the rest died. He was a good volus, seemed like he actually cared about us.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. Helped me get an under-the-table contract with Hélice Bleue as a data analyst and security specialist,” Nirin said with a melancholic tone, “Life was pretty good before the company went under. Their debtors sold me off to Master in an auction with some other off-the-books contractors. Gulta-sensei… he tried so hard to find me. Hired some retired C-Sec officers to track me down.”

“Now I remember, he’s the one that hired us to hit the ‘Setting Sun,’ ” Volinski said, remembering the day he found Nirin on death’s door in the back of the batarian-owned brothel, “You ever reach out to him?”

“I have. Gulta-sensei was very happy to know I was free. He wanted me to come visit, but I never found the time.”

“We could’ve made some time. All you had to do was ask.”

“Mm,” Nirin hummed.

“Any reason you didn’t bring it up?”

“Sensei is in the past. Maybe he should stay there.”

“He cared about you, Niri. That right there makes him better than ninety percent of the people in this fake paradise. You shouldn’t just cast him aside when you don’t need to.”

Nirin was quiet, she knew he was right, broadly at least. Hell, she _wanted_ to see Gulta again, but it felt so… awkward. It had been almost a decade since they’d seen each other face-to-face – or rather, helmet to… mask? Did the volus suit have a mask, or was it considered a helmet? Nirin couldn’t tell, and she shook the thought away as she forced down her melancholy and brought her bubbly persona to the fore. “Maybe one day, Estê-kun, but not today.”

Volinski grunted an acknowledgment, knowing there was little point in arguing further. What someone needed, and what they wanted or were willing to do, were two very different things. All he could do was drag her along to the small art shop and hope the hanar proprietor could fix a problem of theirs.

* * *

The hanar behind the counter… glanced? It was hard to tell, given the lack of eyes, but it appeared to be studying the image of the batarian slave-lord Bassac. Volinski’s ocular implants picked up a sudden shift in the UV patterns that danced across the alien’s bulbous pneumatophore. In the corner of his eye he could see the other nearby hanar flash with sympathetic radiance. Volinski wondered what the two were really discussing, the translation of ‘ebony convent’ seemed spasmodic and disconnected from the situation. Given that the software was hanar in origin, he suspected it wasn’t as accurate as they wanted everyone to believe.

“Apologies,” Ithorex the Unready intoned with solemn finality, “but this one does not possess the skill needed for such a commission.”

 _And there’s the fucking punchline. I hate this universe so goddamn much,_ Volinski thought with a scowl. He looked over his shoulder at Nirin, expecting to see the glowing puppy-dog eyes she always made when she felt dejected, but instead, she was happily tapping away at her omni-tool, utterly oblivious. _Does… she not know what’s going on? Meh, might as well keep it that way._

“Is there anything else this one may do for you, traveler?”

“Não, thanks anyway,” Volinski said, offering reflexive gratitude as he left the shop with his quarian. He glanced over to her and noticed the haptic screen on her omni was displaying a bunch of playing cards. “Niri, what are you doing?”

“I’m playing the Legend of Sol-Tar!”

Volinski shook his head and sighed. “It’s pronounced Solitaire.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Nirin said as she eyed her man and gave a huff, “Still got your thong in a twist?”

Volinski grimaced and gave a facial shrug. “You could say that. I was hoping to get more out of this trip, but…”

“Yeah, me too. I mean, creepy-pastafarian back there had sick-ass security on that computer and all I find when I break in is some goofy sentence. Total rip-off.”

The quarian girl kept walking with an annoyed shake of her head, seemingly oblivious to her human who had come up short at her words. As she glanced back, his grumpy demeanor had morphed into a quiet seething rage as he glared daggers at her. No, not daggers. _Chainsaws_. He was glaring chainsaws at her. And they were on _fire_. He was glaring flaming chainsaws at her.

“I have no idea why I feel this sense of surprise. I really don’t. I know what you’re like and yet there it is, gut-twisting bewilderment,” he said as he shook his head, “It’s like you have no sense of self-preservation when it comes to computers.”

“Ridiculous. I always double-check my firewalls.”

“See? That right there. Not: ‘I consider the risks before I hack.’ Or: ‘I weigh the pros and cons beforehand.’ Or better yet: ‘I make sure it’s worth my time.’ You glibly trespass without a care in the world and you think you’re untouchable. You are _not_ untouchable, Nirin’Ptrun.”

“Of course not, Estê-kun. You touch me all the time,” she said in a husky tone, dragging her claw slowly down her chest.

“I don’t think you’re taking this seriously. No sex or toys for a week.”

“NANI?!”

“You’re on perv lockdown, girl. It’s about time I rein you in.” With that, Volinski walked away in silence, leaving the dumbstruck quarian in his wake.

“Wait! Estê-kun! Hey!” Nirin yelled as she gave chase, “I’m talking to you! Don’t ignore me, you dick!”

* * *

Nirin tossed and turned, tangling herself in the bed’s linens. Normally, she slept peacefully, having made a habit out of taking thanazepam every night to avoid the ever-present nightmares that haunted the tapestry of her unconscious mind. The sedatives would make her sleep less rejuvenating than it should have been – given the lack of REM – but a little grogginess was a small price to pay to not relive the brothel.

Tonight, much like the past three nights, she found her medication to be ineffective.

Volinski looked up from his workbench as his quarian thrashed about on their bed. She’d been ‘off’ since they’d left the Citadel, at least in terms of her sleep patterns. He set about reassembling the revolver she’d bought him from Morrigi the Peaceful – a peace offering designed to mend his bruised ego… and convince him to revoke her weeklong celibacy.

It hadn’t worked. And she spent the rest of the day pouting over it, and the fact that he refused to take her to ‘Drilled’ – the Fornax-brand sex shop in Shin Akiba – to replace the toy Vigil had so callously denatured.

He took some measure of pride in his ability to resist her for the past three days. She’d taken to wearing leather straps and latex lingerie at all hours in the sterilized captain’s quarters, and striking alluring poses whenever she thought he was watching. It made him smile to think back on all her efforts. There was no one else in the galaxy who knew him like she did.

He forced the final piece into place, his ears registering the click of metal on metal as the cylinder was nestled in its home. Leaving the weapon behind, he rose from his chair and sauntered over to the bed where the naked quarian continued to thrash and mewl as her mind rode roughshod over her body. A gentle shake accompanied by her whispered name was enough to rouse her. Panicked eyes relaxed as she took in the sight of her bahnt. She sat up and threw her arms around his neck and cried into the nape. He held her close as the fear-fueled adrenaline-analogue subsided in her blood.

“It’s okay, Niri. You’re safe now.”

“No. No I’m not,” she sobbed, deep gasping breaths accompanying her cries as if she had been held underwater for too long.

“What did you see?”

She didn’t answer, she only squeezed tighter and whimpered with renewed vigor.

“You can talk to me, Niri. You can let it all out and I’ll be right here for you.”

The crying continued at a diminished pace, but she refused to speak. Perhaps she was so out of sorts that she couldn’t form any words even if she tried. But after a time, her voice croaked and cracked between wheezing sobs as she forced out the words that tormented her, “It was e-everything, Estê-kun. E-Everything… all rolled t-together. When we were cast out… when dad died… when Fydr and Lial died… when mom went into a coma and they pulled the plug… when I was sold to B-B—”

She couldn’t finish the word, the sound deteriorating into more wailing pain. In all the years since they’d been together, she’d never once uttered the name of her Master. It was a psychological scar the batarian had reinforced on his chattel with drugs and near-constant conditioning.

He was ‘Master,’ not ‘Bassac.’

Volinski once spoke to Kelly Chambers about it. She alluded to the similarities between Nirin’s inability to speak her Master’s name, and Trellani’s inability to avoid praising the Thirty whenever she mentioned them.

“Niri… you’ve been weird since we left the Citadel. What changed? You haven’t been like this in years. Do you need new pills to keep the nightmares away? Maybe you’ve built up a tolerance.”

Nirin settled down a bit, her mewling becoming far more sporadic as she tightened her grip on her bahnt, rummaging her claws through his hair and leaving thin lines of red on his scalp. When she finally spoke, it was with a resigned and relieved air, “ ‘Regards the Works of the Enkindlers in Despair.’ ”

“Que?”

“That was the was the sentence I found in Rex’s computer. It was the only thing in the entire system,” she explained, her voice once more under control, “It’s been eating away at my thoughts for days. I don’t know.”

“And you think it’s related to…” Volinski drifted off with a shrug, “this?”

“I think so, but I don’t know why. Nor do I understand why sharing it with you feels so… _right_.”

“I’m always here to be your rock, Niri. You know that.”

“I do,” she whispered before pulling back and leaving a gentle kiss on his lips, “Thank you, Estêvão.”

Volinski didn’t respond, he just stared for a moment before pulling her into a tight hug. She almost never used his name like that. Honestly, that might’ve been the scariest part of all.

* * *

Nirin rested peacefully that night, though the thanazepam still refused to suppress her unconscious mind, the visions had shifted from traumatizing nightmares to psychedelic fever dreams. Forms and faces shifting and morphing, splitting and merging. A conversation with her former sponsor, a volus named Gulta Noor, was interrupted as spindly crab legs erupted from his mouth before planting their tips on his cheeks and lifting the rest of the body out before skittering away – then the entire scene melted into something equally outlandish.

Despite the horror of it all, she felt no fear – even as her neck tingled and she felt like she was being watched. It was a lucid dream, and she vaguely knew she was in no danger. She tried to gather her thoughts and force her body to change into one of the heroes she always imagined when she hacked into a computer system – she managed to summon a sword, but it quickly morphed into a pile of slithering asari scalp-crests. She moved to step on them when she felt the dream dissipate, like her body was jostled.

Opening her eyes, Nirin reflected on her dreams, but didn’t know what to think. If they remained lucid and didn’t dip into the nightmare zone, she’d be happy to accept them as part of her life. Then she felt a shift on the bed and noticed her bahnt writhing in subconscious agony – hitting her in the arm with his own.

Her companion, unlike her, refused to take anything to suppress the nightmares. She’d questioned his stance, as he’d never turned down narcotics when awake. He told her that he needed to relive the pain, that he would never allow himself to forget what he fought for. She didn’t understand the point, since his mechanical arms and legs served as reminders in their own right.

This aversion to sleep-aids left the Brazilian tossing and turning as he did every night, drenched in a cold sweat and letting out pitiable groans and moans. Nirin received a light kick as her bahnt jostled, she curled close and held him tight, the one thing that seemed to calm him, but even this did nothing.

Another minute passed before Volinski leapt up with a scream, shoving Nirin away in the darkness and extending the retractable nano-ceramic blades from his forearms and holding them up in a defensive posture – wild eyes darting through the darkness toward unseen enemies.

Nirin did what she’d learned long ago to do – she prepped the stunner app on her omni-tool and slowly increased the room’s light with a haptic dimmer switch. Then she called out in a gentle voice, “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. No jungle here.”

Volinski’s breathing was heavy, his muscles and myomer bundles tense and ready to spring. For a time, it seemed like he hadn’t heard her, but then his breathing calmed and he sat on the edge of the bed, retracting his blades. “…It wasn’t Zorya.”

“Anhur?” Nirin asked as she saddled up behind him and slid her arms around his neck, burying her nose into the nape of his sweaty neck.

He shook his head. “No… something else… I can’t remember, but whatever it was… I feel its eyes upon my soul, even now. I felt a crushing darkness… a cold pressure that my bones—”

“It was just a dream,” Nirin interrupted, worried he might become lost in a flashback.

“Maybe… Something about it… I’ve been on edge ever since this morning. When you told me what you found in that hanar’s computer,” he admitted with a quiet sigh.

Her eyes widened at his words, finally realizing just how similar his dream had been to hers. “I’m sorry, Estê-kun. I shouldn’t have—”

“I’ve told you before, Niri, seu fardo é meu fardo. Don’t suffer alone when I’m here, willing to help. Even if I get hit with psychic shrapnel.”

“I know… I’m not sure I deserve you, Estê-kun.”

“I’m not sure I deserve you either, Niri,” he said as he pulled the quarian into a tight embrace and nuzzled the area where her quills met her forehead plates, “But I don’t think we’re made for anyone else.”

Nirin’s brow scrunched up around her forehead plates. “What about Isabel-sama?”

Volinski tensed at the name of his late wife, but as the tension fled him he held his quarian tighter. “Izzy… she was made for the old me. She was a good woman. I’m not sure she would forgive the things I’ve done in her name… I’m not sure I’d want her to.”

Nirin didn’t respond, unsure what to say. Her bahnt so rarely spoke of the woman he’d once loved – _still_ loved. It felt like prying to even utter her name. So she remained silent and nuzzled against her human.

The past was the past, and no one could change it.

* * *

After another hour of holding each other and taking breakfast in bed, the pair set about seizing the day.

Nirin logged in to ‘Galaxy of Fantasy’ under the handle ‘BudaPest_Gambit’ and loaded her main profile to try out the ‘Waters of Kolono’ expansion pack. As her quarian technomage (level 67) set out with a small party of ‘randos,’ they were joined by one of her gaming friends, ‘AmberCladQueen68.’ And off they went in search of ‘K’l’rh,’ the rachni blood wizard hidden in one of the procedurally generated island dungeons – in short, their day was booked up solid.

Volinski, on the other hand, had opened the comm-link on his omni-tool and selected a TTL from his favorites list. It took a minute to connect the FTL comm buoys all the way to Noveria, but once it did, the screen resolved itself into a small office area with a swarthy woman in an expensive business suit staring back.

_“Hello, Estêvão. What can I do for you?”_

“Hey, Gianna. I need to book a room for the weekend.”

_“Shouldn’t be an issue. You gonna stick around for a bit? You still owe me a beer.”_

Volinski grinned at the reminder. Gianna Parasini wasn’t one to forget a debt, no matter how small. “You set me up with a room at the Hónghuā and a session with T.Y.M., and I’ll buy you the whole goddamn bar.”

_“Generous.”_

“I pay my debts, woman. I also desperately need a break from this life.”

_“That bad, huh? Still flying with the corsairs?”_

“Killin’ pirates and slavers is about the only thing I’m good at,” Volinski said with a dismissive shrug, “Nowhere else to go but the corsairs.”

 _“Mm,”_ Parasini hummed with the shadow of a smile.

“What?”

_“Nothing.”_

“I see that smirk, you’re laughing at me. Why?”

 _“Buy me that beer, and_ maybe _I’ll tell you.”_

“Shocking that a tease like you is still single.”

Parasini narrowed her eyes and glanced to the side. _“Oh, would you look at that. No vacancy. I can probably squeeze you two in next month.”_

“That’s cold, Gianna. And here I thought what we had together was real.”

_“Ha! Cool your jets, stud, I’ll get you your room.”_

“Thanks. I’ll see you in…” he trailed off as he glanced at his omni-tool, “three days.”

 _“See you then,”_ she said as the video feed cut and the line went dead.

Volinski took a deep breath and moved to exit the room, glancing once at his quarian as she tapped away at the haptic keyboard like her life depended on it – cursing someone named ‘butcherfanboi_CV.’

* * *

Breaking through the frigid atmosphere of Noveria, the ship’s pilot brought the converted frigate low to pull into one of the lower-tier VIP docking bays. Volinski made a mental note to leave a case of kriek lambic for Gianna as thanks – the public docks took forever to process and were, understandably, _public_.

As the ship settled into the magnetic clamps, he and Nirin – along with a small complement of Blood Dragons looking for some R&R – made their way off the ship. Only to be stopped by the stern eyes of Major Maeko Matsuo, commanding officer of the Noverian System Defense Force.

“Alright, Niri?” Volinski whispered, “This is gonna be hard for you, but I need you to shut the fuck up and let me talk to her.”

“Nani? But Matsuo-senpai—”

“Do. Not. Start. You know she hates your fucking guts. So keep quiet. We don’t need this to become a scene.”

Nirin huffed in indignation, crossing her arms over her chest. Volinski rolled his eyes slightly before putting on his most charming expression – overclocking his social augmentations in the process. “Major Matsuo, what’s it been, two months? And you look as dignified as ever.”

Matsuo didn’t respond beyond narrowing her eyes.

“Is there something I can do for you? I’m sure Parasini-san made all the necessary arrangements, given that we weren’t shot out of the sky.”

Matsuo’s frown deepened at the Japanese honorific Volinski had used. It was how she referred to Parasini, true, but it felt like a veiled insult coming from him. “You know why I’m here, Volinski-san. Your quarian.”

“Listen, I know she’s been trouble in the past, but—”

“I suppose five minutes ago is _technically_ the past.”

Volinski furrowed his brow at that. “Five min—” he stopped mid-word as he whirled around on his quarian and fixed her with a glare, “Nirin’Ptrun, what the _fuck_?!”

Nirin glanced at her bahnt before shifting to Matsuo and then back. “I’m sorry, am I allowed to talk now? You said I wasn’t before, so…”

Volinski let out a withering sigh as he turned back to the Major. “Alright, no talking our way out of this. We have an appointment with Gianna and a session with T.Y.M., what do we need to do so you’re okay with that?”

“Her omni-tool will need to be confiscated,” she said with a nod toward Nirin, “and anything else that’s capable of hacking a computer system.”

“Mm, that’s a problem, Matsuo. She’s not _relinquishing_ anything, and I think you know that. I’m more than willing to have her lock up her tech on the ship, but we’re not handing it over to you. Wouldn’t want it to get conveniently ‘misplaced’ in Noveria R&D.”

“That wouldn’t happen.”

“Because your boss has such a sterling record?” Volinski deadpanned, “Look, I’m willing to compromise with you here, Maeko. Lord knows this girl gives me fits with the shit she pulls, but we can’t give you her omni.”

Major Matsuo’s frown deepened and she shook her head. “If it weren’t for Parasini-san, you’d both be under arrest right now. I honestly have no idea what that woman sees in you.”

“A good friend?” he offered with a shrug.

“Then she should be more discerning,” Matsuo said as she inclined her head, “You may return to your ship to store her tech, but you will need to submit to a body scan before entering port. If either of you – or those men behind you – have anything more sophisticated than a comm-link, you’ll be denied access and expelled from the system.”

“…You drive a hard bargain. Come on, guys, back to the ship.”

The small group made their way back and deposited all their removable tech in storage lockers. It took no more than five minutes for the Dragons to be ready for shore leave. Volinski and Nirin took a bit longer, as the quarian kept hiding datapads and ANI datasticks in her suit. Volinski let his men go on without him as he spent an hour stripping Nirin of her suit and searching every nook and cranny for contraband – the search ended with over a dozen pieces of Matsuo-banned tech.

Satisfied with his search, he gave the suit back and watched her put it on – making sure she didn’t sneak something in. That’s when he noticed the ghost of a smile on her thin lips. It was the same smile she had whenever she thought she was getting away with something. He immediately reached out to stop her from dressing herself and performed an on the spot cavity search – which found an overly complicated bit of contraband in a very uncomfortable place. He questioned how she would have even used it, and she sheepishly admitted to jury-rigging the thing to work in tandem with her nerve-stim rig to act as a wireless receiver for her suit’s UI. A move she justified by claiming she could never be fully disarmed if she was still in her suit.

Finally, _finally_ satisfied that his girl had been ‘disarmed,’ they made their way off the ship and found Major Matsuo and her Lieutenants still standing stock-still where they’d been before.

* * *

“Hey there, Estêvão. Did Maeko give you any trouble?” Gianna Parasini asked as she brought her glass of beer to her lips, a knowing smile on them as she did.

“Gianna, you know she did, why are you even asking?” Volinski grumbled as he sat down across from her in the booth, Nirin plopping down beside him.

“Because it’s funny. Did it seriously take you that long to put away an omni?”

“No, it took that long because every goddamn compartment on that suit of hers had something else that would’ve given Maeko a fit.”

“And yet you put up with it. Ah, true love. Is there anything in the galaxy so romantic?”

“Right, you sure that’s your _first_ beer of the day, Gianna?”

“Of course, after all, Noveria is world of technicalities. Even a lie can be true from a certain point of view.”

Volinski smiled at her facetious response. It was always amusing to play word games with the silver-tongued. “You spend too much time with the company lawyers, Gianna.”

“Can’t deny that. Been in meetings with the pedantic bastards all week. I was relieved when you called me. Even if it’s a short visit, it’s good to unwind for a bit.”

“True, it’s half the reason we’re here,” he said as he swirled the beer in his glass, watching the foamy head cling to the sides, “You said you’d tell me what you were smiling about if I bought you a beer.”

“I said I _might_ tell you. There was no guarantee.”

“It was implied.”

“Ha! Now _you’re_ the one who sounds like a lawyer,” she said with a smile as she shook her head, “You’ll have to refresh my memory. What did you say when I smiled?”

“I told you I was killing pirates with the corsairs.”

“Ah, yes, that was it. I was smiling because I wanted to confirm that was the case. Because I heard through the grapevine you were running with dogs these days.”

Volinski cocked an eyebrow as he sampled his own beer – a novelty ale made from acorns. “Grapevine, huh?”

“Yep. So, is it true?”

“That’s a bold claim, Gianna. Makes me wonder if you’re spending too much time in the shadows.”

Parasini’s eyes twinkled in amusement as she smiled. “See? Doesn’t it feel nice to share mutual secrets?”

“And you wonder why I was leery of a relationship.”

“Eh, it all worked out in the end, no? We stayed friends, and you managed to find someone just as crazy as you,” she said with a laugh, “You two make a cute pair.”

“Aw, you hear that, Estê-kun?” Nirin said as she leaned into her man and brought the glass of triple filtered turian brandy up to her helmet’s emergency induction port, “She said I’m cute.”

“That’s one interpretation,” he said as he finished his beer, it had an interesting flavor, but he didn’t plan on getting a refill, “How are things with the Board? Heard it was pretty touch-and-go after the Benezia Incident.”

“True. Asari commandos, geth troopers, rachni abominations… it’s a wonder anyone survived all that. The company took a hit, but it’s since rebounded. There’s a lot of money coming in from the Alliance. They leased Peak-23 and turned the surrounding area into a killzone. No one goes in without ten different identity checks, minimum.”

“And here I am without my key FOB, bummer.”

“You’ll just have to make due with a hotel suite and a pile of narcotics. It’s a hell of a consolation prize.”

“Mm,” Volinski hummed as he leaned back in the leather booth, “Which room did you book?”

“16B, same as last time. You have an appointment with T.Y.M. in an hour, but you could probably head over now and get a jump on things.”

“And leave you alone with my bar tab? Fool me once, Gianna.”

“Heh, worth a shot,” she chuckled as she finished her beer and signaled the waiter for a refill.

* * *

An hour later and the human-quarian duo were lying next to each other in modified dental engines and surrounded by medical monitors and IV drips. The proprietary narcotics flooded their bodies as the volus research team took notes on their therapeutic effects for psychological trauma.

Volinski’s vision exploded in euphoria as his mind melted into itself. His dull, earthly form giving way to the bright colors of a children’s cartoon. It was an intoxicating feeling as all the anxiety and stress drained away.

He was content to drift amongst the stars in a drug-induced haze as his high reached its apex. He felt himself floating in zero-g; the sterile walls of T.Y.M. giving way to the vastness of the universe. His body pulled into orbit around a gas giant planet with enormous, vibrant rings as the sound of an electric guitar played in his ear.

He floated toward one of the moons, finding Nirin drifting alongside him and reaching for his hand. Taking hold, the pair descended toward the moon and gently landed on a patch of grass near a field of wheat on one side and a stable of horses on the other. Together, they marched down the dirt road toward the house in the distance, an empty tree swing in the front yard.

Nirin grew shorter with each step and her demeanor changed with it, becoming more energized and bubbly. As they passed the horses, she’d reverted to the size of a child, squealing with delight as she took off as fast as her little legs could carry her. Plopping down on the wooden seat and kicking her legs back-and-forth -- too high up to touch the ground.

Volinski smiled and approached, putting his hand on the small of her back and pushing. He smiled at her high-pitched giggles as she climbed into the sky only to swing back again.

“Mais alto, papai!” she shouted with glee.

He obliged and pushed the swing even harder. He felt a sudden welling up of tears in his eyes. The sheer bliss of normalcy all around them. Just him and this child and the wonder of her childhood. It was the purest dream he could conceive.

One more push and the girl flew out of the wooden seat, squealing with delight as she arced through the air and landed with a tumble in the grass, laughing the entire time. Volinski laid down beside her and the pair cloud-gazed.

A swarthy woman with dark, curled hair approached the pair from the porch. “Hey, you two, lunch is ready.”

“Aquela parece um debulhador,” Volinski said, smiling and pointing to the sky, drawing a coo from the little quarian.

The woman pursed her lips. “It’s rude to ignore your wife, Estêvão.”

Volinski smiled and looked up at her. “Why don’t you lay down with us for a bit, Izzy?”

“Your parents on their way and I don’t want to muss up my dress.”

“Don’t be such a pill, you only live once.”

“Fine. If they ask, I’ll just blame you.”

Lunch grew cold as they picked out animals and monsters made of fluff against the backdrop of a multicolored sky. None of them gave much thought to the colors, nor noticed the way they undulated in the vague shape of a squid that stretched from horizon to horizon. The glowing mass of the sun an all-seeing eye upon them and their private family moment.

Volinski smiled and whispered to himself, “Minha culpa.”

* * *

Volinski and Nirin made their way down the ramp toward their ship, the _Cavaleiro Pálido_. The heavily modified ship barely resembled the salarian _Chryma_ -class assault-frigate the Blood Dragons originally purchased. They’d arrived in Port Hanshan Friday evening, and had spent the weekend in the tender embrace of their family-friendly neighborhood pharmaceutical mega-conglomerate. All stress and anxiety violently purged through euphoric intoxication.

All in all, it was time and money well spent.

As they made their way back to the docks, they were arrested by the melodious voice of a hanar, “Excuse this one, but we were told to speak with you.”

“Who? Me?” Volinski asked as he glanced about.

“Yes. You have been blessed by the Enkindlers. We humbly request that you accept the gift of their benediction.”

Volinski glanced at the proffered ‘gift,’ a sealed metal trunk large enough to fit a batarian corpse if you finagled it a bit. It was apparently shielded against external scanning as well, his ocular implants failing to penetrate the surface. He glanced back to the hanar and cocked an eyebrow. “Who… are you, exactly?”

“This one’s declared name is ‘Opold,’ ” the hanar said with a swaying of its luminous body, “We are a humble merchant in this port of call.”

“Uh-huh,” Volinski said with an unbelieving tone, “If you’re a merchant, why are you giving me this for free?”

“The Enkindlers smile upon you.”

“…What the fuck does _that_ mean?”

“You have been gifted a soul name.”

“Soul name? What are you—” Volinski’s words came to an abrupt halt as the pieces fell into place, “Wait, if this is what I think it is, how is that a gift? She fucking _stole_ it.”

“Your quarian is quite talented to have broken through the dummy firewalls. Her technique was luminous and instinctual, something most trespassers disdain in favor of rote formula. She was gifted the soul name within as a reward for her creative skills… and she shared that gift with you. You both now walk in the light of the Enkindlers’ grace.”

“You hear that, Estê-kun? Luminous and instinctual.”

Volinski ignored the girl’s shallow gloating and focused on the hanar. “You’re offering free shit over a fucking name?” Volinski scoffed with a shake of his head, “Follow-up question, that soul name… does that have anything to do with the fuck-all dreams we’ve been having?”

“The Enkindlers offer their wisdom, but it can be painful for those unprepared. The visions will pass in time, once you accept their benediction.”

Volinski narrowed his eyes as he glanced at the case with suspicion. “What is this ‘gift’ exactly?”

“This one cannot say. Only that the Enkindlers wish you to have it.”

“…Listen, if you’re looking for a smuggler, you can just ask outright. I know people.”

“Why are you so hesitant to receive the Enkindlers’ benediction?”

“Because this reeks of a tra—” Volinski’s words came to a halt and he shook his head to clear his suddenly muddled thoughts. Was it the drugs, or something else? “Actually, on second thought, I’ll take it. Qual é o pior que poderia acontecer?”

“Indeed. Fair travels, warrior.”

“Same to you, merchant,” Volinski said as he gathered the case and turned back to his ship, only to find Nirin standing in his way with her head cocked, “What?”

“Why’d you change your mind, Estê-kun?”

“I… don’t know. Just felt like the right thing to do, I guess?”

“Mm, sounds like you’re still high, bebê.”

Volinski frowned. “I don’t feel high… wish I did. Incidentally, does this make you question your compulsions at all?”

“Nope.”

“Not even a little? You hacked a computer and were infected with a memetic _phrase_ , and then you infected me.”

“Calculated risk.”

“I’m calling bullshit on that. You hacked it for the thrill, without any forethought.”

“Yep, and now we got a gift from the _Enkindlers_. Really, you should be praising me, Estê-kun.”

“Eat a dick, Niri,” he snapped as they sauntered into the airlock.

Nirin gave a huff of indignation. “Not until you praise me.”

The Brazilian grunted at the quarian’s stipulation, hoping he could summon the willpower to resist for the night. Reaching for his comm-link, he called to the pilot as the decontamination cycle concluded and the door to the ship opened. “We’re back, Guilherme. Everyone else on board?”

_“Aye, Capitão. Heads-up, João is hungover and pissed-off. Some asari cadela fleeced him at the hotel.”_

“João é um idiota, that’s no secret. Weigh anchor and take us back to o Canil,” Volinski ordered, feeling the slight vertigo of his ship as it left the Port Hanshan dock.

The _Cavaleiro Pálido_ hummed as it broke through the upper atmosphere on its way back to Minuteman Station. Ensconced in the captain’s quarters, Volinski opened his ‘gift’ and beheld a strange orb of odd textures resting on a bed of satin fabric. It was the size of a beach ball and held an opaque sheen, something that left the eyes unfocused if it was viewed for too long.

“Well… that’s fucking ominous.”

“Yeah…” Nirin agreed as she started tapping away at her red omni-tool, even as she was entranced by the orb.

Suddenly, the cabin was engulfed in the sound of odd harmonics of an Indian persuasion. It was, in a word, _ominous_. Though it didn’t last long.

“VI,” Volinski called out, “change music to ‘Blues Club’ playlist.”

The light drums and chanting gave way to a saxophone and the soulful crooning of a vocal savant.

“Damn you, Estê-kun, now I have to dance,” Nirin whined as she started swaying her hips and singing along.

“That’s better,” he said as he saddled up behind her and placed his hands on her hips, swaying with her to the music.

The dancing shifted into a teasing strip as each peeled off the clothes of the other in rhythm to the music. Tangled pant legs left them both stumbling to the bed as their mouths sought each other out. Their passion flared and neither noticed the subtle luminescence radiating from the nearby orb.

* * *

Nirin felt strange, she remembered her bahnt’s arms cradling her as she drifted off to sleep, but now it was like her body was weightless – even as her feet were firmly planted on an indiscernible floor. It felt like a dream, but it was off somehow. By this point, there should have been leering Masters or joyous technicolor waifus. Instead, it was endless drear – nothingness as far as the eye could see. A twilight plane of gray ink without any other feature – though she could feel her bahnt in her periphery.

The air was bone-cold and thick with an ephemeral pressure, as if they were standing at the bottom of an ocean. Yet even this paled in significance as they bore witness to the majesty of an ancient and terrible entity. Its bony mantle rising into the unnatural clouds of this place. Three jagged tentacles hung in the air. And in the center of this transcendent form, was a cluster of six glowing blue eyes.

They were captivated and enthralled by the sheer magnitude of its presence. And when it spoke… nothing else mattered.

They heard but one word, strummed against the strands of their souls as the Voice filled their minds and compelled them to obeisance.

One word.

**_Katha_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to Ranubis’s “Infiltrat0rN7” (FFnet) for inspiring Niri's gaming habits. That fic is absolutely hysterical and I command you to read it toot sweet!
> 
> Also, I’m afraid part three (the finale) will be delayed indefinitely. I reviewed it and determined it didn’t fit thematically with the first two chapters and would need to be scrapped and rewritten. It’s a shame, but I’m glad I caught it.


End file.
